Chapter Text
Bobby meets Jillian Blythe on a warm Tuesday evening.
After one too many losses on the job –the only job he has ever had really, because this path of firefighting was written into his DNA and set for him even before he was born –Bobby’s captain sent him to see a department therapist.
He remembers lamenting how the only thing that made him feel an ounce better about it all was the thought of numbing his pain in alcohol and she had used words like self-sabotage and maladaptive behaviors and Bobby hadn’t even realized that he always craved alcohol when life was good. Mostly. Because despite the losses on the job, he was headed for captaincy, and had finally built something for himself that was not tied to his toxic family.
He doesn’t realize how far the self-sabotage went until he meets a very beautiful woman with a beautiful crooked smile and eyes that twinkled with a spark of danger.
Her name is Jillian and she likes to be called Jil.
He is three weeks into his captaincy with Saint Paul’s fire department and it has been going well. The change has been challenging but fulfilling, and he is finally starting to feel like he is a firefighter of his own merit, not because of a family legacy.
He has also not touched a drink for a little over three years.
The morning he meets Jillian, he is coming from a 48-hour shift and was headed home and straight bed when he remembered he needed groceries for when he woke up inevitably hungry. Bobby, as a man who prides himself in his love for cooking, avoided takeout as much as he could.
He is at the parking lot of Fremont’s store, trying to balance a handful of grocery bags while searching his pockets for his car keys, when he feels a prickling at the nape of his neck and he knows he is being watched. He turns just in time to make eye contact with a woman with big, piercing blue eyes that twinkle with laughter and Bobby realizes she is trying to hide a smile at his struggles. He realizes just then how crazy he must look, and he sends her an awkward smile even as he feels his cheeks flush.
“Need help with those?” She asks. Although it’s not really a question because she is already at his side and is taking some bags off his hands, leaving him enough leeway to dip into his Saint Paul Fired Department hoodie and take out his keys.
“Thank you, truly.” He tells her once they have finished loading the grocery bags into his truck, turning to face her fully this time. She has short curly blonde hair, big earring loops in her ears, and is wearing a bright red dress that ends at her knees. She is beautiful, he thinks as he stares at her like an idiot but the nerves recede a little once he notices that she is sizing him right back.
“You can thank me by buying me a drink,” she declares and Bobby feels his heart rate increase because this is the part where he tells her he is sober, that he would rather buy her a coffee instead. Or dinner. But there is something about her that speaks of danger and adventure and the combination of this woman plus a drink is way too irresistible.
Bobby finds himself nodding. He ignores the deep sated regret and guilt that is sitting like rocks in his chest at the thought that he is about to mess with three years of sobriety. His sponsor, Stacy, will be so disappointed in him.
They exchange numbers and Jillian, she tells him that’s her name, says she will text him the time and place later. They chat a little at the parking lot and Bobby thinks he can listen to her talk all day.
Bobby has just finished making lasagna when he gets a call from an unknown number and his heart flutters excitedly in his chest. He has never been really good at the whole dating process, and has dated less than three people since he was old enough to start dating. He has always been awkward around women and often times, he prefers that they take the lead in the relationships. It was even harder to date once he cleaned his act and got sober, although he knows that he is –as Millicent and Jake often tease him –a catch. He never gave much thought to his looks, but he has been told enough times that he was attractive. Bobby knows that objectively, he is good looking. He just lacked enough confidence to approach a woman he liked and ask for their number.
This is to say that he is so glad that once again, the stars have shined on him and he has met a beautiful and confident woman who took charge, and here he is.
They meet at a small cozy bar for their first date and Bobby watches as Jillian orders tequila, then changes her mind and orders a soda instead. He sighs in relief as he tells the bartender that he will have a soda, too. Jillian seems to be battling the same demons he is and Bobby is unsure how to feel about that. He doesn’t know whether is relieved or disappointed. Bobby’s confidence increasingly grows the more Jillian talks and he finds himself sharing little bits about his life and firefighting. Admittedly, he knows his life is not that much exciting outside of his job but Jillian doesn’t seem to mind.
He learns that Jillian is a college professor on a long vacation. He is not surprised –she is crazy smart and loves weird facts that she shares with him and Bobby listens attentively because her voice is soothing and she is very passionate as she shares. He learns many little interesting facts about everything, from the fact that there is a village in Kenya where no men are allowed to the fact that that there is no record of cheetahs ever attacking a human.
They meet a few more times before she invites him over to her place.
And then she offers him tequila.
And Bobby finds himself accepting. But for some reason, he does not overthink it, does not care that he just relapsed, three years of sobriety washed down the drain in an instant.
Bobby does not understand why he falls off the wagon especially after working so hard the past three years to be the best firefighter and eventually becoming captain. Maybe it is because something in his life still feels like is missing, despite doing well professionally. Maybe it is because of this town and how much he wishes he were elsewhere. Maybe because he still feels like he is just sailing through life, trying his best with the tools he has but never feeling enough.
Maybe it is because being with Jillian is that easy –he doesn’t care about anything else when he is with her. She is funny and wild and bold despite the haunted look in her eyes. They never talk much about anything, most of their times spent on pills and tequila and sex.
They don’t talk about their addictions and understand that they are just fueling each other’s impropriety. Sometimes, when they are drinking, they share this heavy, sad stare that speaks volumes about what they have allowed themselves to become.
Bobby knows that Jillian is running from some demons. He doesn’t know what demons he is running from. His life had been going remarkably lately, so why did he let himself feed the craving monster inside him?
He comes to learn that Jillian is quiet the adventurer, and she even makes it her mission to make Bobby live, once she learns that he has never really been anywhere or done much outside firefighting.
“Have you ever wanted kids?” Jillian asks him tentatively one night, three months after they first met, apropos of nothing.
She looks shifty and will not meet his eyes, which is unlike her. But they have just finished yet another bottle of tequila and Bobby’s brain has not enough energy to process that something in her demeanor seems wrong. They are at Bobby’s one bedroom apartment this time, lying on the couch as the credits of a movie Bobby no longer remembers roll. There is a yellow pill bottle on the table that is calling out to him, testing his willpower. But he has a shift in the morning and has mastered his craft well enough that he knows he cannot go to work hammered. He is an alcoholic with a code, someone give him all the awards. He is surprised Jillian hasn’t popped it open yet.
“No,” he lies.
Because he wants that –a wife and family and the whole nine yards. But here in this moment, with alcohol swimming in his veins and his mind a little blurry, Bobby cannot let himself answer that question honestly. Especially because he knows Jillian is here temporarily and will leave in a few weeks.
They are bad for each other. Jillian confessed one night that she had been sober for seven years but relapsed when she lost her twin sister a few months before they met. Bobby had eventually confessed that he had been three years clean and they had toasted to that and never spoke about it again. He learned in the first week they met that Jillian is up to trying anything that makes her not think. Like him, she prefers alcohol, but will pop a pill or two once in a while to make her mind stop racing, as she told him.
That is why here now, too drunk to function, Bobby says no to her question and leaves it at that. He wants kids. He wants a family. But how can he allow himself to think about kids in this moment, when he is doing everything that is the opposite of being a good and responsible father? Besides, he is not in love with Jillian. He knows she is not in love with him. Maybe later, once he is sober, he will allow himself to think about that question and wonder why she brought it up.
(He doesn’t notice her face falling or the silent tears in her eyes, his sloppy mind already battling a war over whether to open another bottle of tequila or pop a pill, despite having a shift the next day. He doesn’t notice that she is not really drinking tonight, her hand resting on top of her flat belly and lost in thought).
When Bobby wakes up the next morning to get ready for his shift, Jillian is gone. All her things are gone, and the house looks like someone cleaned it –there is no evidence of alcohol or pill bottles anywhere.
He tries her phone but the call will not go through. He goes to work in a daze and twenty four hours later, as he is dragging his feet back into his apartment, he hopes he will find Jillian waiting for him. She has been spending more and more time at his place lately and oftentimes, Bobby came from work to find her already in his apartment. He did not give her a key and was stunned the first time he found her waiting for him at his place as if she always belonged there. Jillian confessed that she could pick a lock, another exciting tidbit about her to add to the pile.
He spends the next three weeks in a daze, missing her. Deep inside, he knows she is not coming back. He tries to remember their last conversation, something that might have set her off, but his mind is foggy.
He goes to work and drinks, wash, rinse, repeat.
But then Millicent almost dies on a call and Bobby sees how his team panics as they look to him for guidance. He is hit with a wave of shame as he remembers that he spent last night on a drinking spree, and he is a little hangover. His team needs him and he almost lost a team member and all Bobby could think about was drowning in alcohol.
That evening, once the doctors confirm that Millicent will be okay, Bobby calls his sponsor as he sobs into his phone.
He confesses to his team of his relapse and they are supportive. He goes to AA meetings and tries to forget Jillian and the fact that she just up and left him.
Two years later, Bobby meets Marcy and everything in his life clicks into place. He is in a very good place mentally when they meet. He has been going to therapy, attending meetings, and has found solace in church.
#
Marcy is eight months pregnant with their second born when Bobby hears from Jillian again.
He admitted to his sponsor once that he still harbors some guilt for how things ended with Jillian. He had known she was struggling even back then and instead of helping her, he had joined her in self-destruction as they burned each other. He still doesn’t know what the trigger was for her leaving –he cannot recall their last conversation, but he knows he had said something that made her leave.
Bobby doesn’t like thinking of his past but she occasionally pops in his mind every now and then. He hopes that she left to work on herself and get help.
Bobby Jr. is almost two years old and thriving, and Bobby is the happiest he has ever been. He and Marcy had decided on two children when they got married and Marcy did not want them to have a huge age gap, so here they are. He has created a good team that has become his second family; he has a wife he loves with every fiber in his being, a son who is the light in his world, and soon to have a daughter.
His team had been brainstorming girl names for his kid and coming up with all sorts of crazy names when Bobby’s phone shrilly cuts into the silence, making everyone eye him amusedly. He had set at the highest ring volume when Marcy first got pregnant so he wouldn’t miss anything and he had not changed it since, which of course made everyone tease him relentlessly.
The number is one Bobby doesn’t recognize. He shows the team the call in askance because he doesn’t not know that particular area code.
“717 is from Hershey, Pennsylvania. I have a cousin there.” Matt tells him and Bobby frowns in confusion because he sure as hell doesn’t know anyone from Hershey.
“Are you gonna let it ring out?” asks Millicent. Bobby hesitates a millisecond before answering and excusing himself from the group. Maybe someone dialed by mistake.
“Hello?”
“Am I speaking with Robert Nash?” Comes the deep drawl on the other end of the line.
“Uh, this is he.” He says hesitantly. He wonders what this is about. He tries to rack his brain for any relatives in Hershey but comes up empty.
“My name is Joshua Cooper, an attorney with Miles and Cooper law firm in Hershey. I am calling on behalf of my client, the late Jillian Blythe.”
Bobby feels his heart rate speed up. The only Jillian he knows is that Jillian, and last he checked, she was not from Hershey. Or was she? And wait –
“The late?” He asks once the words fully register. Jillian is dead?
“Yes, I am sorry I though you knew. My client was involved in a car accident last month that left her with a brain bleed. They gave her three weeks, maximum. She died last week.”
“Oh,” is all Bobby can manage to utter. Well, that is sad. She had such a big personality. He hasn’t thought of Jillian in a long time.
“That is unfortunate to hear,” he says. “But why did you call me?” Surely there were a million other people who deserved the call, not an ex who Jillian knew for only three months.
“My client had a will. I have some documents that she left you, and she insisted that in the event of her demise, I must contact you immediately and ensure the documents reached you.”
What? Why would Jillian care to leave him anything? He was sure he barely made an impact in her life. They met when she was going through something horrible, and Bobby and his inability to resist the temptation of his addiction had been a distraction. At least he thought so.
“Oh,” he says torpidly, his mind racing in confusion. He also feels sad that Jillian died –she had so much light in her. He wonders if she eventually came out of the funk she had been in when they met. He hopes she went back to work and found real happiness before she died. He still doesn’t understand, though.
“I know this must be shocking, and I am sorry to do this over the phone. But my client was very insistent that I contact you as soon as I possibly could. I have already mailed the letters to the address she gave me and they should reach you soon. Please call me on this number if you have any questions.”
And he hangs up, leaving Bobby reeling in confusion and shock and many other emotions.
“You alright, cap?” Millicent’s concerned voice brings him from his daze and Bobby is about to answer when the tones sound and it is back to work. The calls are minor, thankfully, because Bobby has been distracted by the weird phone call in each one.
Jillian died.
Jillian left him some documents.
He is still thinking about her at the end of his shift. When he gets home, the sight of his beautiful wife asleep on the couch, her hands wrapped protectively on her belly, is enough to.make him forget this weird day. He feels his face stretch into a smile at the sight. He drops his bag by the door and walks to the couch, leaning to kiss her softly on the forehead. When he leans back, he finds brown eyes staring into his.
“Hey.” He greets with a peck on the lips as he helps her sit up because she is at that stage where her bump limits her movements.
“Hey, you okay?” She asks after some minutes of silence, clocking something in his expression.
“Robbie asleep?” He deflects.
“Yes. Now talk.” He smiles at her stern expression that he could never really hide from. He tells her everything that lawyer said –she knows Jillian because he had shared about his past with her when they met –and she looks as confused as him. She asks him if he is okay and he says he will be once he knows why the hell she put him on her will. As soon as the words leave his mouth, Marcy’s eyes light up and she gets off the couch and rushes to the bedroom. He waits in confusion.
“That explains this envelope. It arrived this morning, I almost forgot about it.” She says, coming back to the living room and handing him a brown A4 envelope that has a Hershey postmark on the back. It is surprisingly light, not what he expected at all. He shares a brief look with Marcy before he takes the letter opener in her hand and tears the envelope.
He pours its contents on the couch as Marcy looks on curiously. The first thing he sees is a white folded piece of paper. Curiously, he unfolds it. It is a letter from Jillian. Sharing another look with Marcy, he puts the envelope away and sits closer to his wife so they can read the mysteriously wordy letter together.
Dear Bobby,
If you are reading this, it means I did not get to meet you one last time and share what I have to in person.
I am sorry for leaving the way I did. I am sorry for not giving you a chance to explain. I am sorry I did not give you a choice. But I was a little lost back then, and so were you. I knew you were a good man, only a little lost.
Sorry, you are probably wondering what I am yapping about.
Here it goes.
I was pregnant when I left you. With your child.
Bobby’s hands shake and his breath hitches when he reads the words. He stares at Marcy in shock, silently hoping she has the answers, that she has read the same thing he has. His wife stares back at him, looking as shocked as he feels. Wordlessly, they go back to reading. His heart thrums in his chest as the next words unfold slowly, leaving his mind reeling with too many questions.
I should have told you when I found out, but you remember how it was with us: Drugs and alcohol and endless misadventures as we both sought an escape from our unfulfilling lives.
I knew you didn’t want kids –at least not with me –just as I knew I didn’t want them either. But learning I was pregnant, responsible for creating a life during a time when I was drowning in grief( I don’t know if you remember, but I had just lost my sister, and the only remaining family I had) cracked something inside me. It made me feel something other than numb and lost. And I knew I had to leave you, at least at the time.
I always planned on coming back and finding you but then I went back home and the reality of it all hit me all at once. It felt wrong somehow, to use the pregnancy as something that would heal me, but it was my life line. I got clean. Started going to meetings. Went to doctors’ appointments. Smiled when he first kicked. Did everything I was supposed to. Went back to work and took it easy.
The first time I held our son in my arms, I cried at how perfect he was. He was so tiny and beautiful and had the brightest blue eyes that reminded me of you. And a very bright, unique birthmark on the side of his face that made even the most stoic doctors coo at how perfect, how right it was. He was a star that demanded to be seen and heard and just… perfect. I loved him with all my heart. I knew I would do anything for him.
Still, I should have reached out to you.
I named him Evan Nash, after you. I always knew you were a good man, that you deserved the chance to meet him. And there in the hospital, as I held him in my arms, I swore to myself that I would reach out to you.
But then I left the hospital and it was just me and perfect Evan and the world came crashing down on me, the weight of it all too heavy. Everything I had been burying deep inside me came rushing back when Evan wouldn’t stop crying at night one day and the first thing I thought was, “I need a drink.” I was holding this perfect baby in my arms, and all I wanted was a drink. I had never felt so ashamed in my life.
I couldn’t do it. Be a mother, that is. Deep down, I had always known it. I knew from the second I found out I was pregnant. I guess I just deluded myself into thinking Evan would be my salvation –which is deeply unfair to him, because he deserves the world.
But I also couldn’t bear the thought of getting rid of him. It felt like the best parts of both of us –two broken people creating something wonderful that did not deserve to be ruined by our brokenness.
Evan was three months old and I was not getting better. Every time I looked at him, I felt guilty and ashamed and I knew it would slowly turn into resentment. Evan did not deserve that. He did not deserve parents who were too broken to love him right.
On his three-month check up, I drove to Pennsylvania Hospital for his appointment and when he was being checked out by the wonderful doctor who helped bring him to this world, I ran.
I am embarrassed to write that walking out of that hospital, I breathed easier than I had in a long time. I am sorry. But I knew he would be safe, and that the doctors would find him a good home.
Bobby hadn't realized he is crying until a tear drop falls on the letter, just atop the word “home,” and he sniffs as he once again stops to read to stare at his wife, whose eyes are also red. Bobby is hit with too many emotions at once. Evan. Somewhere out there, Bobby has another son. Evan. Marcy rubs his back soothingly and he takes a deep breath before he finishes the letter.
I got home and waited for a phone call from the hospital that, curiously, never came. For days, I waited for social services to contact me, or for police on my door for child abandonment, but that didn’t happen. Someone from the hospital should have contacted me, right?
Days, weeks passed, and still nothing. While I was relieved and hopeful that Evan would have a better life ,it struck me as odd that no one attempted to contact me.
I didn’t want to be a mother, but I still loved –love –that boy. He deserved a good life. And so I hired a private investigator to find out what happened to Evan. I learned that a rich couple had offered to take him. Still weird, but the person I hired assured me that Philip and Margaret Buckley were legitimately good and kind, and actually had two more children. They wanted another child but Margaret couldn’t conceive due to her age.
It still struck me as odd that Evan was adopted so quickly but I looked them up, and the Buckleys are an exemplification of the traditional white picket family. Also wealthy, so I knew Evan wouldn’t miss out on a good life.
Bobby turns the page dazedly, the sentences on the paper leaving him choked. The words are too heavy, but he keeps reading.
As I am writing this, Evan is three years old today. I do not have long to live, after an accident last week that left me with TBI that damaged my brainstem severely. I have not been okay for a long time, mentally okay, that is. And so I am oddly accepting of my fate. It is comforting to think that I will be joining my sister and the rest of my family soon.
But I could not in good conscience leave without you knowing that you have a son out there. I looked you up, too, and I know you are married now with a wife and son. I was very happy when I found out. Which is why I know you will do what I didn’t: Find Evan, and ensure that the Buckleys were not too good to be true. I always felt like something was wrong in how Evan came into their care, and I know you will find out and do what is best for our son. The lawyer I contacted will ensure you find this letter.
I have also attached pictures of baby Evan, a copy of his birth certificate, and some information about the Buckleys that I managed to find back then.
I do not have much, having spent a large portion of my finances on hospital bills, but I have made a “Payable on Death” account and made you beneficiary so that if need be, you can ensure Evan gets my remaining finances. If the Buckleys are who they seem to be and Evan is in a loving family, I trust you will do what is best for him.
I know this will come as a shock to you and you have a family now, but please, Bobby. Find Evan and the family that adopted him and ensure he is well loved. I know I made mistakes in how I left him, and I am sorry you are finding out now.
You are a good man, Bobby. If, one day you and Evan reunite, under circumstances that I dare not imagine, know that he couldn’t ask for a better father. Please, make sure Evan is loved. Whether by you or by someone else, it doesn’t matter as long as he knows he is loved.
Love, Jillian.
Goodbye.
Bobby hears Marcy speak but her words are muffled, he knows that his hands are shaking along with the letter. A piece of paper that is somehow the heaviest thing he has ever held.
He closes his eyes and tears spill down his face. When he opens them, his eyes are drawn to the other contents of the envelope and he feels them calling to him. He reaches out and his hands connect with a surprisingly clear photograph.
And.
Bobby comes face to face with his son, wearing a smile so bright and a birthmark so prominent on his small face and he thinks Jillian’s words didn’t do Evan justice.
Evan Nash, his son, is perfect.
And Bobby might never get to meet him.